


Stained Mattresses

by Asterrious



Series: Stories from the Outback [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Although it's not mentioned in this one, M/M, My Junkrat is always trans, Trans Junkrat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-07
Updated: 2016-07-07
Packaged: 2018-07-22 02:07:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7415086
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Asterrious/pseuds/Asterrious
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the middle of the night, some demons come out. Maybe they can't be vanquished, but they can be subdued for a while.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stained Mattresses

**Author's Note:**

> Prompted by an anon, asking for Junkrat comforting Roadhog. He tried but he's not very good at it.

He woke to sounds much different than the ones he was used to. Rather than the call of a dingo or the noise of an engine running, there was a soft, gasping from the corner of the room. Junkrat was a notoriously light sleeper, popping awake the second he heard something out of place, conditioned from years of attack to never get too comfortable. It had been happening less, now that he was travelling with Roadhog and didn’t have to watch his back all by himself, but a quick glance outside showed him that the bodyguard was nowhere to be seen. 

The windows of the broken down truck he was sleeping in were caked in dirt, and a spidery crack distorted the view through the windshield. They’d found an abandoned junkyard at the edge of the city, a trash heap for the residents to toss unwanted and broken things. Junkrat had smiled, thinking how much it felt like home. In the bed of the truck he’d set up his equipment, endless supply of explosives running dangerously low. Now that he was feeling uneasy, he wished it had been his turn to keep watch instead of Roadhog’s- he could have spent the night making grenades and traps.

As quietly as possible, Rat reached for his shorts and tried to wiggle them on in the dark. It proved more of a challenge when he remembered that he’d taken his prosthetics off the night before and so only had one hand to wrangle the fabric into submission. Exactly five seconds after he’d resolved to be quiet, Junkrat went rolling off the bench seat with a thump as he tried to reach his right arm without getting up, smashing his head on the armrest between the front seats. A string of curses flew from his lips as he recoiled, smashed his head once again on the back of the car seat, and finally forced himself to lie still and avoid further damage. 

First he slowly buckled on his arm, using his teeth to pull the straps tight, and then reached for his leg, having long given up on stealth. Once he actually had a chance, he resumed struggling with his pants and finally dressed himself, a triumphant smile stretching across Junkrat’s lips. The strange noise had continued as he struggled with his clothing, but he felt better when he could feel his hand graze the few grenades left in his pockets. 

Roadhog wasn’t visible from this angle either and Junkrat stepped out of the truck, a grenade brandished in his right hand in case an attacker got any ideas. When nothing jumped out at him, he swung his head from left to right like a dog, searching for his bodyguard. Rat wandering away while on watch duty wasn’t unusual, but for Roadhog it was. The few times he’d woken up during those nights, Hog had been sitting with his chain in his hands, sharpening it, or cleaning out the inner workings of his scrap gun. Not mysteriously gone.

Creeping in the direction of the sound, he kept his head on a swivel, senses on overdrive. The situation wasn’t new to him, but the surroundings were. Junkrat was used to the wide open plain of the Outback, the sparse trees, occasional cliffs, burning piles of irradiated waste lying around. Not towering heaps of trash and the blinking of city lights in the background. It made him slightly uneasy, a feeling that grew as the sound got louder. It now sounded like something panting.

The moon provided precious little light, but he’d never had issues with seeing in the dark. It was a good thing too, because his hearing had been damaged by so many close range explosions- it would be easy to sneak up on him, if it weren’t for his excellent night vision and the fact that he was constantly moving.

When he’d gone deep enough into the stacks that the car wasn’t visible, the sound shifted, now appeared to be coming from above him. Junkrat tilted his head up and peered around at the towering piles, finally noticing the large, dark form of his bodyguard seated at the top of the nearest one. 

So much for good eyesight.

“Oi! Roadie! If ya jump offa that shit stack, Pigs’ll fly for a second!”

Laughing at his own joke, Junkrat stowed the grenade back in his pocket and began the task of scaling the pile. It was surprisingly stable, but then that shouldn’t have been a surprise if it could support his bodyguard.

“What’re ya doin up here? Ya heard tha’ weird noise too?”

Roadhog was staring straight ahead towards the horizon as Junkrat clambered up towards him, not at the stars like his position would suggest and not at the ground, like his job would require. 

As he got closer, he could see Roadhog’s stomach heaving and he frowned, not hearing the talking that would usually go along with that act. For some reason, he hadn’t made the connection between his bodyguard’s position and the noise. Maybe it was because the other usually seemed infallible- silent, deadly, strong. Kind of like a fart that could clear the room. One whiff of Roadhog and other Junkers went running for the hills.

Not probably wasn’t the best time to reveal his new analogy to the other though. Suddenly he got a whole lot more nervous about the situation, slowing his climb down to a crawl as he contemplated what was going on. His instincts told him that he was definitely mistaken, the other Junker wouldn’t be crying out here alone. But his eyes told him that the other definitely was, with such force that he’d been able to hear it all the way back in the truck. Junkrat didn’t know what to think, unused to having to deal with other people’s emotions, let alone when they came from someone he somewhat cared about. There hadn’t been one of those for a very long time.

“Mate, you good?”

No acknowledgement of his words, although the larger man did suddenly snap his head around to catch Junkrat in a stare. He swallowed and ploughed through the unease.

“There tear gas in ya mask or somethin’? Need me ta get ya some water?”

“Go back to bed Jamison.”

Roadhog’s voice was rougher than usual, not quite tear-filled but close. Ragged and breathless, as if he’d screamed his throat raw.

“It’s yer turn for watch, whatcha doin out here?”

By the time he was close enough to the top for him to be able to look out when his bodyguard pointed out in the distance. The view was beautiful, and you had a perfect vantage point to see the truck in the junkyard. Junkrat huffed out of his nose, knowing that if he pulled that stunt and Hog caught him, he’d be in deep trouble. It just wasn’t fair.

When he didn’t get an answer, he shrugged, completing his climb and scrambling up on the absolutely tiny plateau of mattresses balanced at the top. Roadhog took up most of the room but he managed to get himself situated comfortably, away from the edge and the danger of the ground. The breathing noises had stopped but he could still feel his partner shaking slightly behind him, a small tremor against his back.

“S’not a lot of stars here. Think the suits got offended there was something higher than them and pulled ‘em all down?”

A high-pitched chuckle that trailed off when there was no reaction. Fucking hell this was awkward. There was a distinct air of ‘Go away’ rolling off Roadhog, yet he hadn’t made any move to act on the desire. If he truly didn’t want Junkrat here, he’d have made it more apparent, maybe with a hook around his waist to lower him to the ground or something. At a loss, he simply sat there, leaning against the large man’s back and staring out at the city lights. 

Eventually Roadhog spoke, voice more like the familiar gravelly tone he was used to.

“Mako.”

“Wha?”

“My name. You asked a few weeks ago.”

Junkrat digested that information for a moment before he responded.

“Like tha’ shark?” Half-giggle.

“No.”

Silence again, during which he wondered what exactly he should say to his partner. It was probably about a year that they’d been together, cutting their way across the world. He couldn’t really pinpoint the time when he’d stopped considering Roadhog a hired hand and started thinking of him as a friend, but it had been somewhere around the time he’d lost his arm. His new one worked just fine, but the experience and his arm still hurt like hell sometimes. He was sure Mako knew that.

He’d almost fallen asleep again when Roadhog shifted, turning around carefully on their small platform. A huge hand hooked itself around the back of his explosive vest and kept him still while the other moved, and then there was a huge thigh pillowing his head and Hog was back to staring out at the horizon, away from the huge buildings and fast cars. Towards the pale glow of a rising sun. Junkrat relaxed back after a second, making himself comfortable on his partner’s leg as he forced his eyes open to watch the sunrise too. 

Nervously, the junker licked his lips, afraid of breaking the silence if Hog wanted it quiet.

“Yaknow, ya can… Talk ta me ‘bout shit, if ya need ta. Or want ta. Or somethin’.” He felt his cheeks slowly turning red and was glad that they weren’t face to face.

“Hell, ya saw me at a fuckin’ shitty time in my life, least I can do is listen.”

He hadn’t really expected any sort of reaction from the other, but the silence still made him feel unwanted. Regardless he pressed on, sure of what he’d heard even if it had happened a few hours ago.

“Can’t guarantee I can help or tha’ I won’ laugh if it’s somethin’ like the backstory to why ya like all those lil’ plush things so much.”

“Shut up Jamison.”

“Roight.”

A deep chuckle echoed through the air, vibrating Junkrat’s head against Roadhog’s thigh. He smiled up at his partner, taking it as a sign that his bodyguard might talk about it somewhere far in the future. But it was a start.


End file.
